


Embers

by ChromaticDreams



Category: Trollhunters (Cartoon)
Genre: Allusions to Suicide, Episode: s3e10 A House Divided, Gen, Internal Conflict, major spoilers for season 3, someone please give jim a hug, the bathtub scene that destroyed us all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-06
Updated: 2018-06-06
Packaged: 2019-05-18 06:21:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14847426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChromaticDreams/pseuds/ChromaticDreams
Summary: “There is no going back. Part of you will remain Jim, but the other part will never be the same.”Jim perched himself on the edge of the toilet’s lid, poised with the burden of making the most terrible choice.A take on the end scene from "A House Divided," from Jim's internal POV.





	Embers

_Tick, tick, tick, tick…_

 

Jim perched himself on the edge of the toilet’s lid, poised with the burden of making the most terrible choice.

His phone buzzed, rattling on the rim of the sink. He willfully ignored the interruption. It wasn’t even difficult, when he could drown it out with the constant, luling tick of the amulet.

He hunched over the magical object in question, tracing its trollish lettering with his eyes, glaring at it, cursing it, _pleading_ it, absolutely anything in the vain hope of receiving even a shred of counsel from the souls it housed within. Hell, at this point he’d even take Unkar. After all, faced with this burden he felt pretty unfortunate himself.

What kind of an unfair choice was this? Sacrifice their victory, or his humanity? Potentially doom both worlds to Morgana’s devastation, or leave everything he’d ever known behind?

 

_Tick, tick, tick..._

 

Irreversible, Merlin said. If he chose to step into that tub, there was no going back. This wasn’t a game. It wasn’t temporary, like the potion that turned Blinky human for a week. It didn’t offer a single chance for reconsideration. No, no, no. The choice Jim toiled with was literally a matter of life or death. Step out the bathroom door and he’s human, but submerge himself in the elixir and his human life would be snuffed away, like the wavering flame clinging to a candle’s wick.

He rubbed his thumb against the dial. Merlin’s words echoed in his mind.

 _“You will need to become both troll…_ and _hunter.”_

He gripped the amulet ever tighter, standing up with a dawning resolve. The mirror behind the sink was slick with condensation.

_“A choice not whether to fight, but how to fight. If you really want to save your mother, your friends, I am asking you to change.”_

 

_Tick, tick..._

 

Jim pressed his palm to the mirror’s surface, and wiped some of the beads of water away. His mouth pressed into a tight line as he drank in every last detail of his appearance as he existed now, each human imperfection and blemish. The impression his fingers left in the fog gave the illusion of a horn curving from the side of his head.

_“There is no going back. Part of you will remain Jim, but the other part will never be the same.”_

The most terrifying aspect of this choice was by far its uncertainty. How could he guess to know what he’d become? Would he still hold the same memories? The same desires? Or would the magic of transformation render even the whispers of his soul anew? Would _any_ part of him remain recognizable to his family, his friends?

 

_Tick._

 

Refuse the choice, however, and it may cost those he loved _more_ than merely Jim Lake Jr.- it may cost them their lives. Whether he wanted it or not, ever since the amulet called to him that crisp spring morning, he’d become linked to a destiny so much greater than himself. After mere months he wielded the sword with the finesse of a warrior who’d been training in the forge their whole life. He’d been chosen, conscripted by some unknown power. For the longest time he assumed that power was chance, a matter of being in the right place at the right time. But if destiny hadn’t directed his path, why else would his likeness be carved into the walls of Merlin’s tomb, hundreds of years before he existed?

_“For the glory of Merlin, daylight…”_

“Is mine to command,” he whispered. His brow furrowed, a certain sort of finality locking into place deep in his core.

 

_Tick._

 

At his vocal decree, the amulet activated. His feet lifted off the ground, and he watched in the mirror as the armor phased from light into solid. Hundreds upon hundreds of times he’d equipped the armor, hundreds of times he’d felt this unnatural weightlessness as the amulet’s pull carried him skyward. On few occasions however, had he watched himself mid-transformation in a mirror. Magic spilled from the heart of the amulet in waves. Even after all this time, he had to admit the sight was unspeakably beautiful. But beauty couldn’t win this war. He was not enough. His humanity alone was not enough. The bathroom lights flickered and blew out, leaving Jim in nought but the glow of sunset.

The armor snapped into place and the magic released him, feet meeting the ground as solidly as his resolve. The sight of the inky black liquid left his heart beating double time- what exactly would he find beyond its surface? How did this magic even work?- but at this period of desperation, did those questions even matter? His mother, his best friends, Claire… what was his life truly worth if he couldn’t save the people he loved?

Trying not to dwell upon the greater ramifications of his decision, he lifted his foot to the edge of the porcelain. There was no other way, he consoled himself. No other way.

“Jim?”

 

 _Tick_.

 

Fists pounded at the door.

“Are you in there?”

And with the force of a thousand blows, his once solid resolve crumbled into dissonant fragments.

Mom. His _mom_. Mom was safe, standing just beyond that door. The distance between them was negligible- compared to his weeks locked in the Darklands, he’d never been closer- and yet with the sense of futile longing burning in his chest he’d never felt further apart. His mind screamed for him to reach out, to run to that door. To throw himself into her arms and weep, to see her face again if only for a moment. To say anything, so she’d know he was okay. But just as Merlin bound him to a chair with nothing but mental illusion, something unknowable held him back. Words unsaid died on his tongue.

The doorknob rattled, fighting against the lock. The slender pick Mom normally kept above the door for emergencies lay at the edge of the sink.

 

_Tick._

 

“Jim, what’s happening? Please let us in!” She pounded on the door again, far more urgency in her knock. “Are you okay?”

“Jimbo? _Jim!”_

Toby.

His best friend since, well, forever. Jim refused to imagine his life without him, without his wit and perspective and fiery confidence.      
  
When it came to loyalty, Toby was as unwavering as they came, the true definition of ride or die. He'd stuck with him through thick and thin, from the horrors of gym class to the very Darklands. Without him, so many of their victories simply wouldn’t have happened. And yet- though it struck a blow as piercing as Daylight- the truth was that he couldn’t claim the same loyalty himself. He’d already abandoned him once before, when he entered the Darklands... alone. The same nauseating fear of the unknown that directed his actions then, as he gazed through the nexus of Killahead’s portal, it was exactly what he felt now, too.

Could he really leave him behind again?

“Jim!”

 

 _Tick_.

 

Claire.

Wonderful, stubborn, powerful, dazzling Claire. His once-crush turned cherished friend- his _girlfriend_. What of all the cheesy movie dates and motorbike rides they’d never get to experience together? The summer months he looked forward to spending at her side, getting to know her, the _true_ her? His eyes burned with unshed tears, chest aching at the words he’d never said, at the thought of losing her… either to this war, or to the consequences of his choice.

His jaw clenched, barricading the tumultuous waves of emotion that threatened to spill through his silent facade. 

_“My amulet does not make mistakes…”_

The amulet fastened in his breastplate flared blue. 

_“Out of all creatures in our world, I chose you.”_

Somewhere in the recesses of memory, a far more naive Jim Lake Jr. heard a low, commanding voice calling his name. 

His choice.

Jim overturned a rough, sun bleached stone, revealing a strange, ornamented amulet.

Merlin said it was his choice. _His_ choice. The amulet may have called to him, but he chose to answer that call. And despite every fear he wasn’t truly alone; his family and friends would fight alongside him just as they had in every battle. And weren’t they always stronger together? There was still a chance they could win, a chance they could stop this war before it even began, that they-

“Jim! They freed Morgana!”

 

_Tick..._

 

And yet…

And yet.

Perhaps the amulet covered a trollhunter’s heart for a reason. No matter the consequences- either to himself or his relationships- he simply couldn’t live with himself if he let anymore of his friends suffer in the crossfire. His breath wavered as he suppressed the painful memories of what happened in Merlin’s tomb. No more loss. And after today, no more deaths. He gripped the curtain, lifting his foot to the edge of the porcelain.

Trepidation flooding his soul, Jim stepped into the tub. He couldn’t help but grimace as the blackened water seeped between the edges of his armor. With Merlin’s concoction mixed in the water was surprisingly viscous, like a broth he’d thickened with cornstarch.

He glanced down, sensing a sudden… absence. The realization was slow but heavy. For the first time since he picked it up that idyllic morning in the canal, the amulet’s ticking had ceased. It was then he knew- precisely as Merlin warned- there was no returning from this precipice he stood at. The thought tugged painfully at everything in his sixteen years he took for granted, at all he’d be leaving behind. Merlin claimed the choice was completely his, yet in the shadows of his heart he knew it’d been chosen for him. Morgana was free, her threat bridging entire civilizations. As difficult it was to admit, the world couldn’t be saved by humanity alone this time. The world needed this, needed him. It needed a _true_ trollhunter.

“Young Atlas, you are not alone! Don’t do this!” Strickler called, pounding his fists against the wood. “Open the door!”

He sat slowly and began to submerge himself. The water, frigid against the delicate human skin beneath, lapped against his breastplate, and soon his neck. His cheeks. In a sense, the bitter cold was a good distraction from what he was about to do. He slid his eyes shut as the liquid covered his face, rushing up his nose.

_“JIM!”_

Suddenly it was as if the floor of the tub dropped from underneath him, plunging him straight into the unknown. Jim’s mouth parted in a silent ‘o.’ His fingers twitched. However, even if he tried, he knew couldn’t reach for the impressions of daylight scattered on the water's surface. His body felt heavy, his conscious awareness disjointed and frayed. His family and friends’ voices grew murkier the deeper he sank, replaced by nothing but the dull echo of his heartbeat and the creeping sense that he’d made a terrible mistake. But there was no turning back now.

With a flash the amulet’s magic enveloped his soul, snuffing the last embers of the human boy known as Jim Lake.

**Author's Note:**

> I started this the day after s3 aired- but there were a few bits of this that were incredibly difficult to write, ergo how late this is. 
> 
> When I read the first tie-in novel, I really loved the concept it presented of the amulet’s ticking acting as something of a countdown clock for a trollhunter, and just had to utilize it here.
> 
> Hope to dip my toe into writing more for Trollhunters!


End file.
